A Gifted Mind

Apartment three one six makes it all possible. At the same time, it’s what brought this predicament upon me.

The thought of her empty gazing eyes still makes my skin crawl. The very moment, it petrifies me. I feel as if I am dying as well. Not that I care very much for her, but the consequences of Faith’s death may cause my own.

Looking into Vincent’s eyes, I realize what has to be done. He seems ecstatic, not the emotion one should portray after accidentally killing someone.

My father once told me, “If you’re going to be in this game son, be smart, and watch the company you keep,” those words from my father may have been the only meaningful thing he has ever said to me.

As of right now they ring in my ears, because the company I kept had placed me in a tough quandary. I immediately regret the moment I met Vincent.

July of 2016, New York City. At Simon’s bar, I had dove relentlessly into a bottle of bourbon. Drowning myself was a ritual before completing a job. It helped me cope with the things I may have to do.

My crew always expressed concern when we arrived at jobs, I mean having a drunk boss in a possibly chaotic atmosphere isn’t too reassuring, but anyway, I was enjoying my sorrow when Simon’s call finally breached my drunken barrier.

“Malakai!” Simon yelled.

Let’s stop right there. My name is Malakai Fonseca. I’m thirty-two years of age and I find myself in this bar quite often. Well, with the business I’m in, things I’ve seen and done, it’s a wonder how I haven’t developed alcohol poisoning.

My mother drank herself to death when I was fourteen. Drinking was the only way she could cope with my heavily abusive father. When it literally consumed her, my father was okay for a while; shortly after, he reverted back to his shitty former self. Yes, I did the typical. I hung out in the streets to avoid being at home, eight years of the streets brings us to this night.

“Kai! The guy in the corner asked about you, says he may have some business for you,” Simon explained.

“Well, tell him I don’t speak to anyone about business without proper notice,” I said without hesitation or even a look.

Simon began wiping off glasses and dismissed the guy with a signal; nevertheless, the guy began to approach our area.

“Kai, right?” The guy asked.

“Don’t know that name,” I claimed.

“Look, I heard about you on the streets and I want to break bread,” the guy said.

“Walk away, I don’t know you and you’re interrupting my ritual,” I said firmly.

“Ritual? All I see is the drunken version of a prodigy,” he said.

I place my Desert Eagle on the countertop, to give him one more opportunity to leave my presence with a functioning respiratory system.

“That supposed to convince me to leave?” He asked.

I swiftly point the gun to his head. People begin to become worried, the unfamiliar ones head for the exit.

“It’s here to make you realize that as of right now your life is in my drunken pockets,” I explained.

“If you’re going to pull the trigger do it, but at least let me tell you how I can help when it comes to expanding your operations,” he said calmly.

“Calm, in such a situation… I like that. What’s your name?” I asked with slight interest.

“Vincent,” he answered.

“Well Vincent, what is this pertinent info you seem to have for me?” I began to question.

That was the moment that kept running through my mind, meeting Vincent. With what he has gotten the group into, I wish I would have pulled the trigger that night. As the slow-motion effect from the shock fades, I instantly put out orders.

“Grant, stand outside and keep watch. Joy, get the body wrapped up and have everybody out of here in ten minutes. JC, come with me. Vincent... What the fuck?” I say, shaking my head as we make our way to the exit.

“Kai, where are we headed?” JC asks.

“I have to call in a favor,” I answer.

“You know we have to watch Vincent now, I mean did you see the look on his face when he did it?” JC expresses concern.

“Yeah, I know. I had to get the two of us away from him so we could plan this out. It’s too risky to have him around, we are about to be neck deep in shit if we don’t get ahead of this now. We cannot do that with him around.” I say.

Making our way downstairs, Deon awaits us. Deon is my driver. He’s been around for quite some time. He opens the door and we head to see a friend.

“Mr. Brewer? You have an unscheduled visitor, says his name is Malakai. Do you want me to tell him you are unavailable?” The secretary asks.

“Are you crazy? Send Mr. Fonseca in,” He says.

“Mr. Brewer will see you now,” she informs.

“Chase,” I say.

“Kai,” we greet each other with a friendly handshake.

“New secretary? We’re going to have a problem. I don’t like that she doesn’t know who I am,” I ask.

“Yeah, the last one quit because she didn’t get along with you, so?” Chase says.

“I’m not going to lose any sleep, we just have to bring this one to speed,” I joke.

“So? What brings you into my office today? I assume it’s not because you had a change of heart on joining the firm?” He says.

“Oh Chase, you don’t want me working here. I’d take this place over in a month,” I say jokingly.

“Oh, yeah. With your high-powered guns and henchmen right?” Chase responds.

“Well… Yeah. I mean, why else would I have them?” I say.

“Alright, what do you want smart ass?” Chase grows weary.

“I need to cash in on an ‘I Owe You.’ In some deep shit. Need you to let me know how you can help,” I express gravely.

Chase is the type of guy who is highly intelligent and always maximizes his opportunities. He’s fair enough to help someone close but he still needs to gain. Typical businessman. But nevertheless, I need his help.

I’ve known Chase for as long as I can remember. He was the one who never judged me or expected me to do certain things. I appreciate that he didn’t apply pressure. Now he’s straightforward and money hungry. Which is why he’s the best man to go to when you want something handled legally.

“Alright, Chase. We got some serious shit going on,” I say.

“When don’t you have serious shit going on?” he laughs.

“Funny, but tell your secretary to turn her mic off,” I tell him.

“Oh, it’s that bad huh, no smuggling, battery, or drugs huh? Kim, turn off your mic and recorder,” he reassures me.

Chase decidedly turns off his recorder also, out of respect.

“Alright Kai, what’s up?” He asks.

After feeling secure enough, I began to tell him know what was going on. “Alright, bro. The group caught a body,” I explain.

“Can you say that into this mic bro? Legal reasons of course,” Chase asks.

“So you’re a comedian now, huh?” I respond quickly.

“What do you think I was going to do if the whole lawyer thing went to shit?” He says.

“Alright, you going to help me or not?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m sure I can find something to tap into. You know I’m going to need a little interest,” he says eagerly.

“Way ahead of you,” I reassure. I give JC a nod, he then removes a small parcel from his coat pocket and slides it over to Chase. Chase gives the parcel a weight test and portrays a Robert Dinero expression as if it might be enough.

“If that’s not enough, I’ll have a special arrangement later,” I say.

“Look, no more Iraqi prostitutes, alright?” he complains.

“Come on man that was one time and you know it was a good time,” I say.

“They took all of my money,” he complains.

“No comment,” I say.

“No worries Kai, I’ll handle it,” Chase assures me. As I express my gratitude, we head for the exit.

“What’s the next move? Are we going to wait for your boy to make his move?” JC asks eagerly.

“No, we have some business to take care of.” I express.

Later that evening, we sit in the car in front of a hotel. I pull a desert eagle out of my jacket and place it on my lap.

“What exactly are we doing here?” JC asks.

“We are here to escort our privileged gentleman to prom,” I reply.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” JC asks.

I cock the gun and reply.

“This gorgeous bitch right here,” I say as I raise the Desert Eagle.

Exiting the car, I notice the look on JC’s face. He seems very nervous like we haven’t done this type of thing plenty of times. I remain calm as usual.

I suffer from a condition called Ataraxia. I find myself calm in situations that would make most tremble or piss themselves, possibly even both.

In my line of work, it may be useful but it makes me feel abnormal. I would like to know what it’s like to be nervous, or even scared. Not sure why, maybe because I feel nothing. That’s why I do what I do.

Arriving at the entrance, I holster the Eagle.

“Time to get into character,” I say. After walking inside we are quickly greeted immediately.

“Hello, sir. My name is Carlo. How are you this evening?” The concierge asks politely.

“Hello, I’m Gavin and I’m rather well, thanks for asking,” I say.

“Great! And how about you sir?” He asks.

“Not too bad,” JC responds.

“Can I interest you gentlemen in a tour-” Carlo attempts to escort.

“We’re actually in a hurry, so we would greatly appreciate it if we could just check in,” JC says.

“Certainly, right this way sir,” he says.

We end up speaking to a receptionist after being guided by Carlo.

“This is Eimi. She will assist you with your stay,” Carlo concludes.

“Carlo, I do apologize for my associate, he didn’t mean any disrespect,” I say while tipping him one hundred dollars.

“I appreciate it sir and no offense was taken. Have a good evening,” he says.

“You as well,” I say.

“Hi, I’m Eimi. How can I make your stay all the more serene?” She asks.

“Well, first off, we are guests of Mr. Gideon. We are supposed to be meeting with him to discuss a merge opportunity. I thought he would have already arrived but I guess that Jaguar isn’t as fast as he likes to brag about,” I say.

Eimi then snickers.

“I’m not understanding what it is you want,” she says.

“We want-” JC begins, but is interrupted as I place my arm in front of him.

“No, no. We just want to await his arrival. I do not want to wait in a lobby for business matters. Just feels unprofessional on his part. I don’t think anyone wants to explain to him how a seven million dollar deal went to hell because we couldn’t wait patiently in a suite instead of the lobby,” I say.

Eimi is stunned by my unexpected finesse.

“… Certainly not sir, I apologize. Mr. Gideon is in room 614.

I pass the key to JC as I reply, “Thank you, miss,” I say as I give her a wink.

“Really?” JC asks.

“What?” I say.

“You tipped the damn bellhop one hundred bucks? He complains.

“So, what?” I say.

“Are you related to Oprah? Just handing out cash?” He says.

“Had to make it look believable. Gideon has gaggles of cash. And if you’re going to be partners with Gideon, you need to appear that that’s nothing to you. I said get into character. Besides, that probably would’ve just gone to Simon at the bar anyway,” I say.

“True,” JC says.

The elevator doors part and the inside is empty. JC enters and holds the door.

“What are you doing? Let’s go,” JC says.

“Go ahead and get ready. I’m going to make sure Gideon doesn’t have any warnings about our presence,” I say.

“Alright, cool,” JC says.

“Don’t touch the fridge!” I complain.

“Why not? It’s on Gideon,” he says.

“Touché,” I say as I make my way back to the lobby.

“Can I have a word with you?” I ask her.

“Sure,” Eimi responds in a confused tone. She immediately notices the demeanor shift. We walk to the side of the desk where there is a more secluded hallway area.

Giving her a shove, she goes against the wall and turns around.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Cut the bullshit. What’s your real reason for being here?” I ask.

“What are you talking about? She asks.

“I’ve come across enough detectives to know when one thinks they are going under the radar,” I explain.

“I don’t know where you’re getting this from. I check people in and out of rooms,” she pleads.

“Yeah, because the typical receptionist thinks it’s necessary to come to work packing. Nine mil or forty-five?” I ask.

She pauses knowing that she has been discovered.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says.

“It matters because I now know you’re not here to check people in and out. You want to find dirt on Gideon because you believe he’s crooked and you want to expose his doings,” I say.

Her face grows angry due to the truth.

“Now, you’ll endeavor to figure out who I am after this confrontation of ours, but what Eimi has to realize is that whoever I am, I’m not someone you are ready to deal with.

So, the way I see it, Eimi has two choices. One, try and retaliate after we’re done; which will, in turn, cause a backlash that will leave a lot of collateral damage, and all throughout the process, I’ll expose your real intentions to Mr. Gideon after I finish what I came here for, leaving your operation six feet under. Or number two… Have dinner with me?” I ask.

Her eyes widen. “Really? Have dinner with you after you just threatened my whole existence?” she responds.

“I mean it’s better to have an ally as opposed to an enemy so to speak,” I say.

She pauses and lets off a slight smile.

“The only reason I am considering your invite is due to one simple fact. That had to be the most interesting way someone has asked me out,” she proclaims.

“How do I know that you’re not still just doing your job?” I ask.

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you? Tomorrow? Eight o’clock?” she suggests.

“That’s alright,” I assure. She lets off a smile as I begin to walk away.

I notice Gideon in my periphery, so I turn back to Eimi and block her view so Gideon may pass just in case she thought about warning him.

“So, you really aren’t going to tell me if it’s a forty-five or a nine mil?” I say only to stall.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” She asks.

“I love guns… It also tells me what type of woman I’m dealing with,” I say confidently.

“Oh, you’ll see tomorrow night,” she says.

Gideon passes mere seconds before, so I end it with another smile and head up to 614.

Taking the stairs allows me to get there before Gideon. I knock discretely so JC will know who it is.

“What took so long? I was starting to think you ran into him down there,” JC says.

“Nah, I was just securing loose ends. Gideon will be entering any second, let’s get into position,” I suggest.

As we await Gideon’s arrival, I notice JC looks a little nervous.

“Hey, your sister cooking dinner tonight?” I ask to make him a little less uneasy.

“Go fuck yourself, Kai,” he says.

“Just saying a brother’s kind of hungry. And I know your sister throws down, you feel me?” I say.

“Funny, maybe if you weren’t always wasted you wouldn’t be so hungry,” JC says.

“Oh, low blow. Make sure you’re throwing shots above the waist, not exactly how I’m planning to play this game with your sister,” I aggravate.

“I would hook you up but she doesn’t date drunks,” JC says.

“Ha-ha, not yet,” I say.

“We’ll sober you up after this, maybe some AA meetings,” JC says.

“Really? You’d do that for me?” I ask sarcastically.

“Of course man, we’re bros. But for now Mr. Privileged is here,” JC says.

“Remember, timing is key,” I say.

“When have I ever been bad on time?” JC asks.

“Well, there was that time I was getting out of the hospital-” I say.

“Oh, here we go again,” JC interrupts.

The beeping from the doors keycard being inserted can be heard and we both fall into place as quickly as the door opens.

Gideon walks into the suite. After hanging his jacket, he follows the hallway to the dining room where he finds me pouring two glasses of scotch.

“Gideon, nice of you to join me, I hate drinking alone on special occasions,” I say.

Gideon slows down the pace of his walk.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“You see, that’s funny. You didn’t ask who are you, or how did you get in here, which means you know exactly who I am, you’re just hoping I’m not here to shed blood, although you can’t place your finger on why I would be pouring scotch in your hotel room,” I say as I hold the Desert Eagle over my lap.

Gideon gets very stiff.

“Yeah, I know who you are. The biggest drug dealer in NYC aside from Angel Reyes. You might as well leave because I don’t do business with criminals,” Gideon says.

“Well, that’ll change. You see, I was banking on you understanding why I’m here, it’s most decidedly not for me, because you’re just as big a criminal as I am. Just a different field. So, why don’t you come and have a drink with me?” I say.

Gideon stands his ground and does not move an inch. “Oh, Giddy. Don’t make me bring you over here myself,” I say as I look at the gun.

“Ha, who am I kidding? That’s quite far and I’m a little buzzed,” I say.

JC’s gun can be heard being cocked. He places it directly at Gideon’s head.

“Oh, don’t act surprised, you have to be checked and I’m not going to frisk anyone while relaying vital info to them and besides, who’s going to watch you if I need to pour more scotch?” I ask.

JC begins to frisk Gideon.

“So, what is it that you need Mister?” Gideon asks.

“Oh, you’re good Giddy. I know that you know my name. I mean, I’m drunk but not drunk enough to mention it,” I say. I look around the room as Gideon walks to the table.

“So? Where’s the recorder?” I question.

“What recorder?” He asks.

“Look, Gideon, I’m drunk so I’m also a little impatient. You know who I am so you definitely know my name; nevertheless, if you want to remain with all bones functional I’d suggest you give me straight answers when asked,” I say firmly.

“Oka-” He says.

“Ah, ah. No need, I just thought about it,” I interrupt.

I look at the table with the scotch and begin to kneel.

“You have to think where would someone who believes they are pretty smart hide a recorder. The more you think about it, the more obvious it becomes… Then you realize that they are not that smart,” I say. JC snickers.

“Now, where are the others?” I ask. Gideon gives a blank stare. I sigh at the repetition.

“Giddy! You won’t last if you keep this up,” I assure him.

I pour more scotch to drown out the nuisance that Gideon is becoming.

“We’re going to play a little game,” I say.

I look at JC and he knows exactly what I’m about to ask of him.

“Jay, if you would be so kind as to pass me that whore?” I ask.

“Sure thing,” JC says.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a python revolver and we begin to exchange guns.

As JC places the 357 revolver in my hand, Gideon gives off a confused look.

“Oh, I get it you’re wondering about the terminology,” I say.

I begin taking out all of the bullets.

“This is Ivy, we call her a whore because she gets around of course. We all share her when we need to take care of business... And as of right now we have business to attend to. So, where were we? Ah, the game. This is what we’re going to do,” I say.

“What? You’re going to play Russian roulette with me or make me do it myself?” Gideon interrupts.

Gideon’s sudden attainment of cojones causes me to smirk because he has no idea what’s about to happen.

I laugh before I reach in my pocket for a cell phone. “Bring in the conclusion,” I demand.

I look Gideon in the eyes and he has a look of hope, which is not something he should have.

“Gideon, you are going to submit. Yes, you’ll submit now but I don’t need you thinking you can go to the cops after this.

So, this is how this is going to work. You’re going to keep your eyes on me until I tell you otherwise. If your eyes so much as venture a tiny bit, I’ll have my partner cut off a finger. You understand?” I ask.

Gideon nods in a very nervously.

“Eyes on me,” I say. I signal JC to open the door for Grant with my hand.

“Listen, I understand. You don’t have to continue. I can just give you what you want,” he says.

“Gideon? I didn’t want it to come to this, but in my line of work there is no room for error,” I explain.

Grant, another one of my employees enters the room and brings another guest to the table. With Gideon looking forward, his peripheral view is not enough to make out whom it is. Gideon’s breathing grows rapidly.

“Giddy, if you hyperventilate this will only take longer. Calm yourself,” I say.

We take a moment to wait for his breathing to slow.

“Okay, go ahead and have a look Giddy,” I say.

Just as Gideon begins to turn his head, his terrified facial expression instantly reminds me of the night that my mother passed.

“I’m sorry Ms. Fonseca, but you have cirrhosis,” the doctor said.

“What does that mean?” Laura asked.

“It is alcohol poisoning mom, means your liver is damaged and failing,” I said.

“Yes, we’ve been trying to give you different antibiotics and medicines but they are being rejected by your system. The process is too far along. The medicine combinations have deteriorated your kidneys so a lot of the excess medicine isn’t being filtered, which is causing your immune system to crash,” the doctor said.

Laura paused for a moment, in shock.

“So, I’m not understanding what this means. How much time am I looking at?” She asked.

“That’s hard to say, mam,” the doctor deflected.

“Can you just give me a time frame? Please, I want to say my goodbyes,” she asked.

The doctor gave her a look filled with empathy.

“With dialysis maybe a week. Without it maybe a day. I’m very sorry,” he said.

“A day? What the hell are we supposed to do in a day?” I asked.

“Kai!” Laura called.

“No, there has to be something else you can try, I need you to gather your doctor friends and find something to help her,” I said aggressively.

“Kai! Enough. They’ve done all they can do. We just have to accept it, you’ll need to move on when I’m gone. I need you to be strong and take care of yourself because I know your father will not do a thing for you,” she said.

“I need you,” I remembered saying.

“You’ll be fine... I love you so much,” she said.

“I love you too,” I said.

Laura’s face filled with glee even given the circumstances.

“Siempre estaré contigo mi Amor (I will always be with you),” she said.

Watching Gideon’s perturbed face, those words from my mother ring in my ears.

Gideon finally takes a look and instantly breaks down setting his eyes on his daughter. Hands tied and mouth taped.

After seeing his daughter, he grows into a real whey-face.

“Oh, come on, please. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. She’s just a little girl. She has nothing to do with this,” Gideon cajoles.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” I yell. As Gideon cries, I pour another glass of scotch.

“She has everything to do with this. She’s one of your weaknesses and due to the simple fact that you had to act like you had a choice in the matter.

Maybe if you would have just agreed to my terms, we wouldn’t be doing this. That’s just an inference but hey, we are still where we are. So, pick up the gun Gideon,” I say.

Gideon holds his head down and continues to sob more tears down his more exaggerated whey-face. JC shoves him with his gun.

“Pick up the gun or I’ll kill the both of you, slowly,” I say. Gideon looks over at his daughter and picks up the gun.

“Now, these are the rules. I’ll say go, and you’ll pull the trigger once. Then, you’ll re-spin it and point it at your daughter and I’ll repeat. Comprende?” I ask.

Gideon rises and sits up straight. “Please, the other recorder is inside of the ceiling fan compartment,” Gideon says.

I climb the table to view the entire fan and find the recorder.

“Thanks, Giddy,” I say.

Sitting back in the chair the scotch begins to make me feel as if my body and mind are going into an autopilot state.

“Now… Go,” I say.

“Please, I gave you the other recorder and I’m willing to cooperate,” Gideon says.

“That may be true but it took too long for you to realize you were dealing with a situation where you have no chance of this ending well, or at least that chance is long gone… How many times have I explained this?” I ask as I look around the room.

“I’d say three for sure,” JC says.

“And damn it, four is where I draw the line,” I say pointing the gun to Gideon.

He flinches due to too much excitement.

“Okay, that was joke… Maybe even a bad one. I’m not that funny when I’m drunk, unfortunately. Sorry, you have to deal with this and my bad jokes. Back to it then. And don’t you interrupt again trying to plea. I will just slap it down… Continue, oh I’m sorry. Go.” I say.

Gideon raises the gun to his head nervously.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re making this extremely uninteresting. You decided to pull the trigger on yourself first like a typical parent.

Now, if you had pointed it at her first I would have stopped the game right there, hell I would have stopped the game before you pulled the trigger.

This is why I said you’re not that smart. I gave you a re-spin safety net. That betters her odds and you still pointed the gun at yourself first. No re-spin now, just six pulls. Go,” I say as I shake my head.

Gideon pulls the trigger for the first time and groans nervously for what follows. “Simple, right? Go,” I say.

Gideon raises the gun to his daughter.

“I love you, sweetie,” he says.

The gun clicks and Gideon’s reaction could be mistaken as a heart attack.

“Oh my God, Gideon… You have some cojones man. There’s no way I would’ve pulled that trigger. You would just have to kill me. Go,” I say as I chuckle.

Gideon quickly pulls the trigger for himself.

“Go,” I say.

Gideon hesitates, realizing that the odds are lowered even more so, since he doesn’t have the re-spin available to him now.

“Be strong Giddy,” I say.

As he pulls the trigger I tell him to immediately go again, no break. Gideon looks at me, knowing one of them is about to consume lead. Gideon pulls the trigger and instantly cries knowing the last pull is the bullet.

“Please don’t make me shoot my baby girl. I’ll do anything,” he says as he cries out.

I look at him listlessly due to the scotch. Walking over to him I kneel and give him a slap to make him focus.

“Gideon... Go,” I command.

Gideon holds up the gun, his arm tremors as he is drenched in sweat.

“I can’t do it,” he says.

Gideon drops the gun and looks in my direction.

I walk back over the chair and take a seat.

“I’m disappointed because I thought you would have gotten down by now that I don’t like my time wasted. Oh, and you’re still going to do what I say, sorry not sorry. I lift my gun and pull the trigger.

The room gets quiet and everyone gets stiff. As the bullet connects, her body falls to the ground. Gideon vomits and cries out for his daughter.

I walk over to Gideon slowly. “Gideon, honestly I gave her a better chance of survival,” I say.

“How? You just killed my baby.” He cries.

“I didn’t, you did,” I say.

Gideon’s face lights up.

“I gave her a safety net but you were too stupid to use it properly, so it was nullified. Even after that, she had a one hundred percent survival rate but you bitched up and didn’t do what I told you,” I explain.

“What are you saying?” He asks.

“The final bullet was a blank Gideon. You think I’m just out here in cold blood killing kids with my spare time?” I say as I chuckle and walk away.

“You’re crazy,” he says.

“You know, I’ve come to that conclusion a few times myself, but then I realized I’m just always drunk,” I say, as I walk and kneel down next to his daughter.

“Gideon look over here,” I ask.

Gideon slowly raises his head to see that his daughter is still alive.

“How, how is that possible?” He asks.

“Did you want that to happen? Be happy... We put a vest on her. Damn, you really aren’t that smart. Three options, a vest, a blank, or both. But, anyway, I don’t just kill children. Come and hug your daughter Gideon,” I demand.

Gideon rushes over with haste.

“Now, you will become a client of Chase Brewer. I am not explaining anything except that Chase had nothing to do with this. Consider this a gift for him. So again, what will you be doing first thing tomorrow?” I ask.

“I will become a client of Chase Brewer,” he says in a terrified manner.

“Gideon, I hope this has taught you something,” I say.

“It has, I do not cross you,” he says.

“Atta boy, now keep that in mind because if I have to see you again, there won’t be a vest or a blank. Understood?” I ask.

“Yes, understood,” he says.

As I rise to my feet and signal the boys to wrap things up. We grab the vest from his daughter, the bullet casing from my gun and the glasses used for scotch.

As we begin to head out, I stop and look at JC.

“... Grab the scotch, how did I forget that?” I ask.

JC gives off a look of disappointment.

“Seriously?” He asks.

I look back with slight embarrassment.

“What? It was good. I might not even go to Simon’s now,” I say as we leave.

The main focus of the night is over as I arrive at my condo. I remove my jacket and bring my firearm to the piano as I attempt to get comfortable.

Pouring a glass of the scotch, I begin to wallow in my sorrow and pain. The alcohol tends to numb all I’ve been through and blocks out all I’ve done.

The piano, she purifies my mind, body, and soul for the moment. For some reason, I always end up here.

“Siempre estaré contigo mi Amor (I will always be with you),” I hear her words again and the glass ends up across the room.